


On-Call Sinner, Full-Time Lover

by Blame Canada (OneHitWondersAnonymous)



Series: Phone Destroyer Shenanigans [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, Demons, Hell, Imp Tweek/Youth Pastor Craig, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Phone Destroyer AU, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Satan is mentioned but not actively in the story, Sequel, Violence, and the death isn’t important!, damnation, or as I like to call it, phone destroyer, the Tweekquel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneHitWondersAnonymous/pseuds/Blame%20Canada
Summary: The plot twist that was falling in love with the imp that stole him away from eternal damnation was something Craig couldn't say he would've ever expected out of life, but here he was, deep in the throes of twitterpated existence with an otherworldly creature that made his heart pound. Damning souls together paid the bills alright, but being on-call sucks regardless of your occupation- unless your assignment happens to be an old 'friend.'Rated T for implied NSFW, violence, and swearing. Sequel to 'Tempt A Demon, Pay The Price.' Imp Tweek x Youth Pastor Craig, a blessing brought so graciously to us all by Phone Destroyer.





	On-Call Sinner, Full-Time Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I've been wanting to write a sequel to the first Phone Destroyer fic that I wrote for these two weirdos, and now it has arrived! I hope you enjoy it. It's been a blast to write!

Waking up always felt a bit odd now, Craig had noticed. Sleep didn’t quite feel the same, and he wondered if perhaps the pillows were too flat, or the black-out canopy too stifling. It was probably the fire though. Everything was always a little on fire.

Everything was so on fire, in fact, that when he blinked awake slowly to the sound of noisily flapping wings, he looked down at his feet to find the edge of his sheets ablaze. He stomped at it lazily and it fizzled out, and the sheets regenerated to their normal, pristine condition. It was kind of really great to live in a magical Hell apartment. Well, besides all the fire.

“Babe,” Craig croaked, taking his time cracking his eyes open fully and squirming around in their king-sized bed while he stretched. “Babe, why are you up?” The canopy did a pretty good job of blocking out the flames and their light, but he could still see the shadow of his lover flitting about the room haphazardly. The shadow grew in size until a head of wild hair with pretty little horns popped in between the opening of the canopy to greet him, wide eyes and all.

“We’re on-call today, remember?” He shivered a bit, and Craig slow-blinked at him.

“Yeah, but we never actually get called. Come back to bed, honey, come on,” he begged lazily, reaching his hand out to scratch under his chin, and Tweek, the darling little thing, began to make the little rumbling sound that echoed from his throat like a cat’s purr. Nevermind the distant screeching of the damned souls that wavered beneath it. He relaxed into his scratches for a few seconds before coming to his senses, and he swatted Craig’s hand away.

“Y-you know that’s my weakness! That’s mean!” Tweek whined, and Craig groaned as his shifting about let more of the fire-light into his dark safe haven. _“You_ come on. You know if you don’t take this job seriously, Satan will be seriously pissed off!”

“I know but Tweek,” Craig yawned again and Tweek looked marginally more mad, “we _never_ get calls. Just come back to bed and we can turn the alarm up.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Tweek trailed off, and Craig could see his tail swinging behind him nervously, the spade tip twitching along with his usual tics.

“I’m the surest sure. C’mere.” He grappled at nothing in the air lazily, and Tweek giggled at him, his pointy teeth poking through his smile. He folded and tucked his wings, making them small for convenience’s sake with his fancy dark magicks, and crawled in to meet him. Craig ruffled his hair and kissed the crook of his neck.

Perhaps he should explain.

If the memory of the beginning of their passionate but sweet relationship escapes you, it’s likely you either read the tale too long ago, or never did in the first place. At both the top of the page and the bottom there is a convenient link to the series, so that Craig won’t feel the need to start at the very beginning. That would be annoying when the chronicle is right there, for your ease of access.

Anyway.

Immediately after having been teleported away from his false church through the infinite wormholes of Hell, Tweek had begun his training on how to keep a human being. Namely, learning that they frequently needed food and water, different from the usual sustenance _he_ needed every few days that dripped menacingly from Hell’s stalactites. He found it annoying how much Craig needed to consume to stay alive, and though he’d tried to skimp out for convenience’s sake before, Craig was very good at being annoying about being hungry. He had begun to regret deserting for him.

Then of course, they began their very important and serious studies of Sodom and Gomorrah, and as they hopped from town to town to avoid the eye of Satan that wished to punish Tweek, they became very well-learned scholars. So well-learned, in fact, that their expertise were something to be quite proud of, and Tweek would never regret deserting Hell for him ever again. It had taken Craig a minute to get used to the, well, fur, and all, but the wings and horns and pointy teeth kind of made up for it. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already going to Hell or anything.

Fast-forward to when Satan did finally get ahold of them, and while Tweek groveled, Craig hung back, hiding behind his splayed, fearful wings. Tweek began to cry, his twitching and shivering increasingly distracting and difficult to speak through, and Craig watched Satan’s eyes grow soft as Tweek told their story. Lucky for them, Satan was a sensitive man and a sucker for young gay love stories, and they’d been granted their own Hell-apartment as long as they continued to collect souls of the damned. The rest was Sodom and Gomorrah-flavored history, and now they lied together in their luxurious canopy bed, on their day off but on-call, and it felt startlingly comparable to a regular life on Earth. Craig didn’t miss home much.

The warmth of Tweek’s unnaturally high body temperature easily lulled Craig into the beginnings of a light sleep, and he could feel Tweek’s body relax as it began to rest as well. He sighed lightly and wrapped an arm around Tweek’s middle, his head curled into his bare chest, and let his body sink into the incredible plush softness of their mattress.

Then the alarm went off.

Tweek had certainly turned up the volume, and from just outside the canopy blared something straight out of a shitty Halloween soundscapes CD. Seriously, Craig was pretty sure that was what it was. Tweek groaned from beside him and crawled out of their bed to slap the off button just as a fake wolf howl began its crescendo, and the little scroll that appeared out of thin air with their assignment arrived in a puff of black smoke under his clawed hand. He yawned loudly, the action appearing not unlike a cat, and rubbed his eyes awake. Craig did the same as he fumbled to get out from under the sheets and face the noise of their unfortunate paging.

 _“We never get calls,”_ Tweek mimicked, clearly irritated with Craig, as he collected the essentials. Craig rolled his eyes while he pulled on real pants.

“What do we have to do?”

“It says it’s another routine damnation, s-so it should be quick,” Tweek muttered, his speech impaired by the hair pin sticking out of his mouth. He pulled it out and stabbed it into his hair right around his left horn, disguised in its placement but effectively forming another sharp spike in his hair. Craig made fun of him for weeks for bothering to style his hair like that.

Craig yawned one more time as he buttoned up his black dress shirt, shifting the collar and shoulders forward and tucking it into his pants. It was annoying that he had to wait until they were at the surface to put on his collar, but it completed the aesthetic, and Craig cared about the aesthetic. He quite liked the routine he and Tweek had invented for their work.

“Ready?” Tweek asked, blinking over at him while he finished smudging some eyeliner under his eyes, and Craig nodded at him once.

“Ready. Fuck it up, babe.”

Tweek snorted, and with a wave of his hand, a portal appeared and screeched at them from their feet. They clasped hands, and together they stepped through, the whooshing sound of their descent whipping past Craig’s ears along with the screams of the damned. “I’m so glad we upgraded to the sound-proof fire,” Craig said, conversationally, and Tweek hummed his agreement. “I’m sick of all the goddamn screaming.”

“Yeah well, t-try thousands of years of it,” Tweek said, and then they were just below the surface, and Tweek got to work on his demolition.

This was probably the hottest part of the ritual. It was a bit archaic that they still had to claw through the ground to get out in the first place, but it also meant Craig got to watch Tweek’s back muscles and arms work their enhanced strength and magic to make a terrifying entrance. He still remembered the horrible cracks in the earth Tweek had made when he came to collect him, and he nearly sighed aloud at the fondness of their first moments together, so full of fear and also thinly repressed sexual attraction. God, he loved him.

The first sight of the Earth’s surface greeted them and it was night time, as was typical, and Tweek glanced back at Craig with a smirk before dramatically plunging his hand into the floorboards of their entrance portal. He took another quick look at his assignment scroll, suddenly hovering in his hand, and then hoisted himself into the land of the living. The high-pitched squeal from above was _so_ satisfying.

Tweek let out a terrifying growl as Craig clambered out behind him, hiding behind his gigantic wings spread wide across what looked like a church. He would make his own entrance once he got his bearings and finished placing his collar. The pews were shoved back and crooked and at least one stained-glass window had blown out from the force. Craig tsked in his head at how cheap it all looked, like the church equivalent of a secondhand shop, but then he caught one of the programs tucked in a little caddy glued on the side of one of the pews.

Wait.

He snatched the scroll from Tweek’s side, exhilaration filling his chest, and then exploding when he finally read the name. He didn’t bother to make a super dramatic entrance, too high on the incredible irony of it all. He laughed, loud and unrestrained, and gently pushed his way forward to step in front of his darling imp.

“Oh my god. No way. No fuckin’ way.” He continued to chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, the confidence of his position of power running through him like a poison. Sweet, sweet poison.

“W-what the fuh- Craig?!” their victim shrieked, and Craig laughed louder, practically giddy with the pleasure of what he was about to do. “We thought you fucking died!”

“Oh, I think you’ll find me very much alive,” Craig said, lowering his gaze so that he knew the fire surrounding him would reflect in them, forever an experienced showman even on the other side. He stepped forward, the clacking of his shoes reverberating through the room over the distant screams and hissing Tweek was adding to the background, for the atmosphere. A lovely touch, really. “What are the goddamn odds though, right?” He pulled out the scroll and his thick framed reading glasses, and read from it slowly.

“Imp Tweek, Fear Incarnate, Manifest 48: you are hereby summoned per your duties as on-call board-certified Damnation Technician to elicit justice upon the following sinner, predetermined to be damned to Hell under circumstances unnatural and premature: Mr. Eric Theodore Cartman, false prophet and solicitor of unmarked, unrecognized religion invented for-profit at the expense of compromised souls other than one’s own. This violates the code of conduct produced for directors of houses of worship, and sentences you to eternal damnation to Hell for your crimes against humanity.” He let the scroll snap shut and Cartman made a delicious flinch. “Do you have objections to this ruling?”

Cartman gawked, stuttering on a consonant and blinking wildly as his eyes darted all over the imp who shadowed him like a nightmarish silhouette. Tweek’s growling rose in volume and Craig smirked, hushing him with a harshly uttered _“Heel,”_ a command that always pissed Tweek off later but proved effective in the moment. The more inhuman Tweek seemed, the better. Tweek, true to character, stopped with a vicious snarl, and flapped his wings once to force Cartman back in a gale force wind into the podium, much like Craig had once stood on his own failed Death Day.

“P-p-p-please, Craig, we were coworkers! Y-you must understand, we were all _so_ worried for you, I’m seriously! Remember that one time when we, um,” he faltered, obviously unable to find a time Craig might be grateful for, his voice the high whine he reserved for when he begged his mother when they were young. Craig winced in disgust, and took off his glasses to tuck them in his breast pocket.

“Tweek,” Craig said, and that was all the command Tweek needed to leap over Craig’s head and land with a thunderous bang that broke the floor beneath him, leaving a puncture wound with the end of his pitchfork and his tail swinging wildly back and forth with excitement in Craig’s face.

“What _is_ that thing?” Cartman asked shrilly, squeaking when Tweek took a tiny step forward in his crouched predator position.

“An imp,” Tweek and Craig corrected at the same time, and Craig swooned for him before continuing. “He's the creature sent to damn you to Hell for your sins. He’s also my lover, and we live together in an apartment in Hell.” The look on Cartman’s face made it all so worth it.

“You’re fucking kidding me. What the hell?” Cartman said, and Tweek snarled at him again, the gnashing of his teeth audible from behind him. He was probably intentionally salivating too, to get the full drooling-massive-sharp-teeth effect going to terrify him. His wings were tilted forward, a sign of aggression Craig had come to understand by observation, and with teeth bared he knew he looked like an absolute terror. It was delectable, the fear in Cartman’s eyes right now. He wished he could take a picture.

“No objections then? Okay,” Craig said with a shrug, and Tweek gripped his pitchfork tighter, pointing it at Cartman’s heart. “We hereby banish you-”

“Wait!” His eyes were wide and watery, and he finally dropped to his knees off his fat, wobbly little legs.“W-wait, Craig, buddy,” he tried, a nervous laugh in his throat, “you know I’m doing this to _help_ them. They’re lost souls, and I’m giving them a God to believe in! What’s so wrong about that? Everyone needs a place to turn when they’re hurting, Craig, come on. You know it’s true. I’m giving them purpose!”

“All you’re doing is making them pay for some bullshit special effects and your fast food intake.” Craig yawned and blinked slowly, looking forward to crawling back in bed to nap once this was all over. “Take him away, baby.”

Tweek hummed, the sound especially supernatural above the surface, and stabbed the end of his pitchfork into the floor. From its entry point, a new crack traveled forward, splitting right between Cartman’s knees and glowing that terrifying fiery orange. It began to break in half and Cartman began to scream again, girlish and wailing, and Craig couldn’t help but laugh. “Really, the odds! Am I right?” he yelled over the screams of the damned, and Tweek took his chance to lurch forward and plunge the pointed ends of his pitchfork directly into Cartman’s chest. His screaming hitched and he coughed once, and Tweek howled blissfully into the night before using his cloven hoof to shove Cartman’s body off his murder weapon and into the crack that swallowed him whole. He flapped his wings slowly and powerfully as he watched him descend from the high ceiling, and Craig smiled, pride consuming him as the floor sealed itself shut. “Nice job, honey.”

“Thanks,” Tweek said as he dropped down to the ground, the screams having dulled to a distant thrumming so that they felt as quiet as they ever could be. “You were great”—he shuddered with a twitch—“mm, too!”

“Let’s go home,” Craig said through another big yawn, and it spread to his lover, his teeth glinting in the fire surrounding them while he stretched his mouth wide. God, it was hot. Maybe he wouldn’t go back to sleep.

Tweek smiled and took his hand, planting a kiss on his cheek, before walking him back to the hole from whence they came. “So you knew him? Do you feel bad?”

Craig scoffed. “Nah. He was an asshole. I have no reason to forgive him or care. Peru was enough bullshit for a lifetime.”

“Peru?” Tweek asked, but Craig just smiled and faced forward, and they stepped into the portal that would lead them home and back to bed where they would decidedly, most definitely, not be sleeping.

**Author's Note:**

> God was this ever cathartic. Leave me a comment if you've got time!


End file.
